


The Matter with Dwarflings (Even When Said Dwarflings Are Peering Over the Horizon into Their Second Century)

by madame_faust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bearded Dwarf Women, Drunk Dwarves, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves, Dwarves In Exile, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_faust/pseuds/madame_faust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill from a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme: "So Dwalin and Thorin have been best buds for like, ever. One can only imagine the shenanigans they used to get up to together, Fili and Kili would probably be proud. Anyway,though now they're adults and are most of the time quite serious, now and then they feel the need to blow off some steam and get a bit immature. I just want to read about one of those times." http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24517493#t24517493</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matter with Dwarflings (Even When Said Dwarflings Are Peering Over the Horizon into Their Second Century)

It was practically sacrilege to refuse a drink on Durin's Day Eve. The Day of Remembrance, a week hence, now that was a time to walk about stone-faced and sober, murmuring prayers and smearing one's face with ash - but that was a week on and the dwarven new year was a time for celebration.

The clans of the Blue Mountains might have been Firebeards and Broadbeams for the most part and, to be certain, they observed the feast days of their own Fathers and Mothers with all due revelry, but Durin's Day was a time for all the different clans to come together and toast the first of their race's Fathers. And toast they did. Early, and often, if the brewers had anything to say about it.

Thorin could hardly refuse, given such incentive as that. It would be bad for diplomatic relations. And a break of tradition as well. Besides, in the years of their exile, though he'd never deny Erebor her rightful place as his only true home, he had grown very fond of Firebeard whiskey and it flowed in abundance on this night of all nights.

Dancing was thirsty work - and he could hardly refuse to dance, could he? Not when he had kin and friends enough that his arse never had time to settle itself on a bench longer than it took to knock back a great gulp of punch before his arms were clasped and he was flung back into the fray that was five-hundred or more dwarves dancing in the light of a dozen bonfires beneath the silver moon.

It might've been the whirl of the dance (or, more likely, the whirl of the dance combined with the swill of the whiskey), but Thorin was less than steady on his feet when he stumbled away from the fire - by the Maker's forges it was hot. He made to pull his coat off, then paused when his unsteady fingers encountered only the belt of his tunic. Had he taken it off already? Had he worn a coat? Surely he'd worn a coat, at least to start with...

Shaking his head, Thorin loosed the ties of the neck of his tunic. Ah, that was a bit better. Now, perhaps there was an obliging water-barrel into which he could thrust his head -

"You're not leaving!" Dwalin exclaimed, flinging an arm round about his shoulders. It was an order, sounded like one anyway. Where had Dwalin come from, anyway? The last Thorin had seen him he'd been well taken-up with his sister and he'd bitten his tongue against a bawdy joke or two he'd wanted to fling at them. Pity he couldn't remember a one of them now, while they weren't the sort of comments he ought to shout around strangers, he seemed to remember that they were awfully funny...

"It's hot," Thorin complained, shoving Dwalin in the side. "And you're no help, you rush-light...quick to flame and quick to douse...was that what I was going to say?"

"Hmm?" Dwalin asked, not moving off at all, but tugging Thorin even closer to him. "What were you going to say?"

"Sommat witty, only propriety stopped me - I was going to be very witty," Thorin assured him and Dwalin absolutely howled with laughter.

"Oh, aye, 'course you were," he chuckled. "Well, they say Durin's Day a time for the impossible coming to pass - "

"Who says?" Thorin asked, confused. Dwalin tweaked his nose.

"They do," he exclaimed. "Those scholars an' scribes my learned brother's forever spouting off about...where's he got to, anyhow?"

"I don't know," Thorin said, using Dwalin's shoulder as a pillow. To his dismay, he found that his cousin's coat was also missing and Dwalin's shoulders needed more padding to pass for comfortable. "Ah, you're useless."

"Well, wake up," Dwalin gave him a bit of a jostle. Then he smiled at him, sharp and mischievous. "Ah. Aha! Don't worry about thanking me."

Thorin didn't have time enough to inquire as to what it was Dwalin expected to be thanked for. They were nearly of a height, but Dwalin had always been the stronger of the two of them - and the bolder. In one nearly-graceful move, he managed to get Thorin flung up over one of his shoulder and he took off toward the river.

It would take a dwarf far drunker than Thorin to wonder at what Dwalin planned to do. And it would take a dwarf far more foolish than Dwalin to think that this plan would be enacted without a hitch.

Or without an audience; Fíli and Kíli couldn't help but notice that their uncle and cousin had disappeared from the festivities and could not fail to hear Thorin's bellows of irritation and vows of retribution to come when Dwalin bundled him off. Naturally, they were after them in hot pursuit, like two dogs who'd scented a rabbit.

"I'm being helpful!" Dwalin declared and it was the last thing he declared before Thorin twisted out of his grip at the water's edge. Unfortunately for him, there was nowhere to go but in and with a tremendous splash the two of them toppled into the muddy brown water at the river's edge.

The two of them sat up, spluttering, suddenly feeling a bit clearer between the ears than they had been only moments before. That feeling only intensified when they realized they were being applauded.

Fíli and Kíli were standing over them, grinning from ear to ear and cheering.

"Nicely done, Uncle, you got him!" Kíli crowed, punching the air with his fist joyfully.

"Well done, Mister Dwalin!" Fíli shouted approvingly. "I don't think anyone else could've carried Uncle this far without having their head taken off!"

"And the best bit," Kíli continued, oblivious to the look that passed between the two semi-sober and very wet dwarves in the river. "Is I bet that Mister Dwalin'd be the one to go in and Fíli put his money on Uncle Thorin - now that you've both got it, we neither of us have to pay up!"

"Don't you?" Thorin asked, getting out of the river, boots squelching with every step.

"Run, lads," Dwalin advised, following his King, as faithfully as ever he had.

It was a very soggy foursome that trekked their way back to the festivities, but the fire soon promised to put them all to rights.

"There you are!" Dís exclaimed cheerfully, weaving a path up to her kin and stumbling over her own feet. Thorin caught her by the shoulders and she coughed. "You smell like a bog - you look like a bog, what've you been up to?"

Before her brother could explain, Fíli drew himself up and pointed at him accusingly, then gave his best impression of Dori. "That brother of yours is troublesome! He ruined my clothes and threw Kíli in the water, he'll catch his death of cold!"

"That's right, Mam," Kíli agreed. "And your cousin is no better! Honestly, what is the matter with dwarflings these days?"

Dís didn't bother trying to hide her smile. "What have you two to say for yourselves?"

Dwalin and Thorin exchanged a glance and shrugged.

"They brought it on themselves," Dwalin replied.

"Nothing's wrong with them that a sense of humor wouldn't cure," Thorin added. Even his nephews couldn't maintain their disapproving facade after such a statement as that. All of them had a good laugh and then went back to enjoy the dancing.

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't they be like this all the time? Aside from the liver damage, it seems fantastic. *plies the line of Durin with drinks*


End file.
